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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Romancing the Otherworldly Party, Bloghop and FADE Excerpt!

Love New Adult but looking for something with a little bite? Here's an event geared toward the other side of NA. Whether your tastes range toward shifters or men from other dimensions, there's a New Adult title out there for you.

Be sure to check out the Rafflecopter giveaway on the bottom of this post for a chance to win tons of awesome New Adult books (U.S. Only).

FADE EXCERPT:

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Prologue

December 9, 2009

The wind howled
around me, flinging cold rain this way and that. Frigid drops stung my face and
hands. The vinyl awning overhead shook and rattled in time to the thunderclaps
echoing from every direction. Energy crackled in the air as lightning splintered
trees miles away. The resulting clamor forced Reverend Don to shout just to be
heard above the fury of the storm. Even so, I only caught every third or fourth
word of the prayer he offered.

I didn't need to
hear what he said anyway. There were no prayers to raise the dead. I knew
because I'd tried. I'd begged, pleaded, and prayed to every god I could think
of over the last four days, and none of my efforts changed a single thing.

My mom still lay
in the gleaming wood casket in front of me. And I still couldn't breathe. I'd
tried that for the last four days, too, but my breath felt lodged in my throat.
It burned when I inhaled. It burned when I exhaled.

Was that normal?

I wasn't sure.

I lifted my eyes
from my waterlogged, black shoes as Reverend Don continued shouting. He bowed
his gray head over his Bible, his shoulders hunching against the driving rain
pummeling us from all sides. The few mourners who'd braved the storm alongside
my dad and me to attend the graveside service huddled in groups beneath useless
umbrellas, soggy tissues clutched in their shaking fists. Mascara ran in
rivulets down more than one face, but whether from the rain or tears, I didn't
know.

I couldn't
remember if I'd put on mascara before leaving the house, but I did know any
smudges beneath my eyes were from rain. I hadn't cried yet, and I didn't know if
that was normal either.

I didn't think it
mattered one way or another though. My life stopped making sense the moment I'd
opened the door to the state trooper on Saturday, and every hour since had
flung me further and further from normal. Who cared if I cried now or later?

My mom was dead,
and tears wouldn't change that.

Besides, if I let
myself cry now, I wouldn't stop. I'd keep on until I ran out of tears, and I couldn't
do that. I needed to keep moving forward. One step at a time. Sprinkle dirt
over her coffin. Thank her friends for coming. Pack my things. Transfer
colleges.

The list seemed endless,
but if I stopped long enough to think now, I'd fall apart. Eventually, I'd run
out of things to do, I knew that, but I didn't know what to expect when I did.
When I had nothing left to plan or store or do . . . is that when I cracked?
When I shattered like Humpty Dumpty?

As a murmur of "Amen"
went up from Mom's friends and co-workers, I almost hoped I did get to fall
apart then. Being strong and brave hurt. Especially when I just wanted to hit
my knees and scream until I passed out.

But when do we
ever really get what we want, anyway?

Dad's hand
tightened around mine, and I glanced in his direction. He stared straight
ahead, his brown eyes fixed on Mom's casket. I followed the path his gaze had
taken, only to realize he wasn't looking at her casket at all. His eyes were
trained on the far side of the cemetery, at the line where the plots stopped
and the trees started.

I squinted through
the rain, trying to pinpoint what held his attention.

A lone wolf
hunkered beneath the trees.

A wolf?

I blinked, certain
I hadn't seen an animal at all, but I had. A wolf, or the domestic relation
anyway, sat in the shadows of the trees, staring in our direction. Even from a
distance, he looked as sad as I felt, and I wondered if he'd lost a loved one
too.

Do animals feel
loss like us? Do they grieve, too?

I hoped not.

As the wind picked
up around us, the animal's eyes met mine. He didn't move for a moment. He just
sat there with his sad, wolfy eyes locked on mine. And then he lifted his
muzzle skyward and howled.

Goose bumps broke
out along my skin as his mournful wail ripped through the cemetery. Reverend
Don's voice, the sniffles and muffled sobs of Mom's friends, even the crash and
clatter of thunder and lightning faded.

The lump in my
throat dissolved, and I could breathe.

I didn't feel
peaceful or better or anything remotely close to unburdened. I felt . . .
wrecked. As if listening to his call shook loose a little grief that had been
building for the last few days. Everything inside, all of the hurt and fear I
hadn't allowed myself to think about, expanded. Grief swept through me like a
tsunami, leaving nothing untouched.

A tear slipped
down my cheek, followed by another.

The wolf's howl
lingered in the air around us for long moments before the storm renewed its
assault. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the sound of his howl faded
into the screeching wind.

The animal turned
his head in my direction, looking right at me again. Yellow eyes locked on
mine, burning through me, speaking to me.

My heart twisted
painfully in my chest, the truth hitting me like a ton of bricks.

My mom was never
coming back. Not ever.

My vision blurred
until the wolf looked like little more than a watery spot far off in the
distance. "I love you, mama," I whispered, hoping she'd heard me.

The animal sat
there for another moment, watching me, and then he slipped back beneath the
shadows of the tree. I watched him go through tear-filled eyes, my heart aching
in ways I couldn't even begin to describe.

Reverend Don
loomed in front of me as I reached up to wipe my eyes, his wrinkled face a mask
of sympathy and support. He extended one of his hands in my direction, his
Bible clutched to his chest with the other.

I glanced over at
my dad, but his eyes were closed, and his head bowed. A line of moisture worked
its way down his cheek, and I knew that even if Mom hadn't heard me, he had.

"Arionna?"

I hesitated, not
ready for what came next. I was only nineteen . . . why did I have to say
goodbye to her now? How was this fair? I looked back at her coffin, and then at
the broken expression on my dad's face. My hands trembled in my lap.